by Terry Brooks
“Don’t move,” said a voice from one side.
Without changing position, Logan turned his head and looked over in the direction of the speaker. A gaunt man with a shock of black hair had stepped out from behind one of the wrecked vehicles. He was unarmed, his hands empty, and his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
Logan turned toward him, the runes of his staff glowing brightly as the magic readied itself.
“If you’re thinking about using that staff on me, you might want to think again,” the man said calmly. “My friends are all around you and they have their weapons trained on the kids. You might save yourself, but you probably won’t save them.”
The Knight of the Word glanced about quickly. Dark figures surrounded them, more than a dozen, come seemingly out of nowhere. They must have been hiding in ditches alongside the road. Or maybe they had burrowed in and waited. They were as ragged and thin as the speaker, and they carried weapons of all sorts, all of them pointed toward the AV and the hay wagon.
A wave of helplessness washed through him. “What do you want?”
The speaker smiled. “We want you to come with us to see someone. It shouldn’t take long. The kids can wait here until you come back. Then you can all go on your way.”
“Come with you where?”
“Just over the hill there.” He pointed east, toward the mountains. “We saw you coming, you know. This isn’t a chance meeting. It was planned. We know who you are. We know why you carry the staff and what it does. We know all about the Knights of the Word. That’s why Krilka Koos wants to meet with you.”
“Maybe he should have just asked me instead of sending men with guns to threaten these kids.”
“Maybe that was his way of making sure you didn’t say no.”
Logan understood two things right away. First, the man was lying. He might tell them that no harm would come to them and that they would be allowed to go on their way, but it wasn’t necessarily so. Release or safe passage of any sort would be a matter of expediency, not honor. Second, whatever this was, it was something personal.
“Why don’t you just let the kids go on without me? I can still come with you and meet with…what was his name?”
“Krilka Koos. No, that won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“If we let the kids go, there’s nothing to keep you here. We know we can’t hold you if you don’t want to be held. We know you won’t give up the staff, either. All we have to bargain with is the kids. If they don’t mean anything to you, then we’re in trouble. I’m betting, though, that they do.”
Logan nodded. “They won’t be touched?”
The speaker shook his head. “Not one hair on their heads.”
“Who is Krilka Koos?”
The speaker smiled. “You’ll see. How about it? Are you coming?”
Logan hesitated, and then turned back toward the AV.
“No, no, none of that,” the speaker said quickly, freezing him in place. “Hard to tell what you might feel you need to talk about. You might say the wrong thing.”
Logan looked at him. “Maybe they need to know what’s going to happen.”
“Maybe they can figure it out on their own.” The man shrugged. “A few of my friends will stay with them to make sure they don’t figure it out wrong.”
Logan stood staring at him a moment, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He had stepped right into this mess, letting himself be trapped despite all his experience and knowledge. He hadn’t even considered that his enemies might use the children against him, might take advantage of his sense of responsibility toward them to break down his defenses. What a fool he was.
He looked down at his feet and shook his head. He had thought long and hard about leaving the Ghosts. He had wondered how they would handle it if he did. Could they survive without him? Could they continue on?
They were all about to find out.
“All right,” he said, and walked reluctantly toward the speaker.
PANTHER, SITTING IN THE driver’s seat of the AV and holding up both hands to show that he meant no harm, waited until the Knight of the Word and his captors were out of sight before taking a quick head count of the guards that had been left behind. Three, at least. Might be a fourth back behind the hay wagon; he couldn’t be sure. The two standing in front of the AV were human, but the other one looked bigger and stronger. A Lizard, probably. They were all wrapped in dark clothing that partially concealed their features, so he couldn’t be sure.
One of the two in front walked over to him and glanced inside. “Shut down the AV,” he said.
Panther reached down and with one hand turned off the AV and with the other released the safety on the Parkhan Spray shoved down between his seat and the door. If they were taking the Knight of the Word away, they weren’t bringing him back, no matter what that guy said. Which meant, in turn, that once they had disposed of him, they wouldn’t need the Ghosts, either. The choices were crystal clear. They could sit there and wait for the inevitable or they could do something to save themselves.
Panther’s dark face tightened with determination. He already knew which choice he was going to make.
The guard who had spoken to him walked away again, looking bored. Kids, he was probably thinking. Waste of time.
“Panther, what are you doing?” Owl asked suddenly from the backseat, as if divining his intentions.
“Nothing,” he said quietly. “Yet.”
He made another quick survey of the guards, counting heads and weapons, making judgments about their abilities. Hard to tell anything about the latter until you saw what they could do. Panther wouldn’t know that until he made his move. He wasn’t going to be able to get to the Lizard right away because it was behind him. He was going to have to take out the front two and then hope he could get that one afterward. It would be risky. The other Ghosts would be exposed and in danger while it was happening. If they died, it would be his fault.
But if he didn’t do anything and they died, it would be his fault, too.
He felt his blood pumping harder. There was no way to win in this business. No way.
He was fortifying himself for what he needed to do, telling himself to stay calm, stay focused, knowing that he had never done anything like this before, never been in a position where he needed to, when he heard someone call out sharply.
“Rabbit! Come back here!”
He glanced over his shoulder. It was Lizard girl. She was climbing down off the hay wagon and running after her stupid cat, which was bounding toward the AV. The guards had turned at once, alerted by her cries. The cat ran and then hopped, looking like it was spastic or something. Panther groaned inwardly. This was messing up everything.
“Look,” the guard who had spoken to him earlier called over to the other one. “Target practice.”
The cat got all the way to the front of the AV before the girl reached it, snatching it up just as the guards were leveling their weapons. Her hood slipped off her head, revealing her mottled face. The guards saw what she was and recoiled instinctively.
She cradled the cat closer. “The ones in the AV have got plague,” she told them. “Want to see?”
“Get back on that wagon!” the speaker snapped angrily, gesturing with his weapon.
She glared at him, and then turned and walked back toward the wagon. As she was passing the AV, she said quietly to Panther, “If you fire that Spray you’ll bring them all down on us. Let me handle this.”
She was past him before he could reply. What was she talking about, Let me handle this? Like she was some sort of special. He glanced over his shoulder at her, wanting to say something about it, but she was almost back at the wagon.
Then her stupid cat got free again and came bounding back toward the AV. She rushed after it, got to it right at the AV door, and scooped it up just as the guards were coming toward her.
“Get out of the AV,” she said to Panther without looking at him. “Drop down on all fours an
d pretend you’re sick.” She handed the cat to him through the window. When he hesitated, holding the cat like it was made of glass, staring at her in disbelief, she hissed, “Do you want to get out of this alive or not! Do what I say!”
He almost didn’t. He almost told her what she could do with herself. But there was something in her eyes that told him not to. Instead he surprised himself by dropping the cat on the floor, opening the door, and staggering out of the AV like he was suddenly ill, dropping down on all fours and making retching sounds. There were shouts and cries from the other Ghosts, both in the AV and back on the hay wagon. The two guards in front of the AV came running, a mix of suspicion and surprise mirrored on their faces, not sure yet what was happening.
Panther spit into the dirt and looked up at them as if he were too sick to do anything else, at the same time hoping that this wasn’t a mistake, that the girl had something more than words to offer.
He needn’t have worried. As the two guards at the front of the AV got to within a few yards of him, she whipped about, cloak flying out in a swirl of fabric. Panther caught a glimpse of bright metal objects spinning through the air, bits of glitter caught by the weak light. An instant later he heard the guards grunt sharply and collapse where they were. Even before they were down, she was moving the other way, waiting for the Lizard to come around the corner of the vehicle. As he did so, her arm whipped out a third time, another flash of metal snapping from her hand. The Lizard gasped and dropped to its knees, its weapon falling from its hands. It swayed like a big tree caught in a wind and went down.
It was over so fast that Panther barely had time to register what had happened. He got to his feet and went over to the guards lying in front of the AV. Pieces of bright metal protruded from their chests.
The girl came up beside him, reached down, pulled the metal bits free, and held them up for Panther to inspect. “Iron Stars,” she informed him. “A throwing weapon. Coated with a powerful drug that leaves the victim paralyzed for up to three hours after it enters the body. Works instantaneously.”
He stared at her. “Where’d you learn about that?” he asked.
“From other Freaks,” she replied, slipping the stars back into the pockets of her cloak. She gave him a look. “Freaks like me.”
She walked back toward the last guard, leaving him to stare after her. He didn’t know what to think. She might be more capable than she appears, he heard Logan Tom saying. He shook his head. She was a Freak, but a scary one. “Cat, huh?” he called after her. “You got some serious claws, Miss Kitty.”
She waved back at him without looking, her fingers curled into claws. “Weird,” he whispered.
WHILE CAT STOOD off to one side holding Rabbit and ignoring the rest of them, the Ghosts bound and gagged the paralyzed guards, making sure their restraints were tight enough that they couldn’t free themselves without help. When that was done, Panther and Bear examined the blockade of derelict vehicles and quickly found that a section of pieces had been fused and attached to wheels that allowed it to be rolled out of the way once certain catches were released. Fixit came up to lend his expertise, and within minutes they had the barricade open and the way forward cleared.
Clustered together, the Ghosts stood looking at the roadway where it stretched into the distance, the twilight beginning to settle in with the close of the day. No one said a word, all eyes on the concrete ribbon and the hazy horizon that lay south.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Fixit demanded.
Panther stared at him, and then shook his head. “We don’t stand a chance against a whole camp full of armed men.”
“We can do something! We’ve got his AV and weapons. We can’t just give up on him! He went with them to protect us!” Fixit was incensed. “Owl? What should we do?”
Owl sat in her wheelchair, staring straight ahead. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t really know what he would expect us to do.”
Panther looked at the others, his dark face mirroring the gloom he was feeling inside. Bear stood to one side, eyes downcast. Candle looked to be on the verge of tears. River and Sparrow were talking together quietly, their voices too soft to hear. No one wanted to say what every single one was thinking. No one even wanted to admit to it. They all knew what they should do, but they all knew, as well, that doing it was suicide. His gloom deepened. That Knight of whatever he was, he wasn’t their problem. Not really. Not when you thought about it. He wasn’t one of them.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”
He was walking back toward the AV when he caught sight of Catalya, standing there staring at him, petting her stupid cat.
“What are you doing?” he asked irritably.
“Waiting for you to leave.”
“Waiting for…” He trailed off. “You’re not coming?”
She shrugged. “I’m going after Logan Tom.”
“Alone?”
She fixed him with her dark eyes. “Looks that way.”
Panther stared at her in disbelief. If she had any brains, she’d get back in the AV or climb up on the hay wagon like the rest of the Ghosts and get out of there. She’d go right now and not give Logan Tom another thought. It was one thing to stand up to three stump-head guards. It was something else to go charging into a camp filled with men with weapons—a girl, no less, kitty-cat claws or not. It was beyond foolish; it was suicide.
Shouldn’t give him a second’s pause, making this decision. He should just go. “Frickin’ hell,” he muttered.
He walked over to the driver’s side of the AV, reached in, and pulled out the Parkhan Spray. Then he walked back to the others. “Fixit, you drive,” he told the boy. “Take the rest down the road about a mile and wait for us until you’re sure we’re not coming. Then drive on. Everyone stays with you. Look out for each other.”
“Panther!” Owl hissed in disbelief. “You can’t do this.”
“Looks like I can,” he answered, avoiding her eyes.
“I’m going, too, Panther,” Sparrow declared at once.
“No, crazy little bird, you’re not. Just me and her.” He pointed toward Catalya. “Just us. We’re going. You stay here, you and Bear, and watch out for the others.”
“What are you talking about?” Sparrow demanded. “You and her? Just two of you?”
He nodded. “If two aren’t enough, then four or six or eight probably aren’t, either. I don’t know. I do know that no one’s going but me and her.”
“This isn’t something you have to do, Panther,” Owl said quickly. “This is probably too much for anyone, let alone a boy and a girl. What is it you think you can do? How do you think you can help him?”
“Don’t know. Have to try, though.” Panther glanced over at Catalya. “Hey! Miss Kitty!” he called out. “You serious about getting your big brother back from those stump heads? You think you got the claws for it?”
She stared at him a moment before walking over. She stood there, sizing him up. “You think you can help me?”
Panther grinned despite himself. “Guess we have to find that out, don’t we?”
Catalya handed Rabbit to Owl. “Take care of her for me until I get back.” She looked at Panther. “Ready if you are.”
Despite the sharply worded pleas that trailed after them, they walked off in the direction in which the men had taken Logan Tom.
Neither one spoke to the other.
Neither one looked back.
TWENTY-SEVEN
L OGAN TOM was marched off the freeway toward the roofs of the buildings cradled by the low hills, his captors fanned out on all sides to keep him securely in their midst. He forced himself not to look back at the AV and the hay wagon and the Ghosts, trying hard not to get ahead of himself, to concentrate on the moment and wait for his chance. He could escape anytime he chose. But escaping meant putting the kids at immediate risk, and he was convinced that he must find a way to avoid that. There was still the possibility that Krilka Koos, whoever
he was, only wanted to talk, only sought his help with something.
He needed to give that possibility a chance.
Still, the urge to strike back, to lash out with all the power that was his to command through possession of the black staff, was almost more than he could resist. He could scatter these men like bits of dust, burn them to ash, and flee back to free his helpless charges. He could turn this thing around in an instant’s time.
Maybe. But all it would take was one shout, one shot fired, one hint that something was wrong.
The men around him kept their distance, walking in loose, easy fashion, following the lead of the man who had done all the talking earlier. But their casual attitude was only a pretense that was betrayed by the constant surreptitious glances they directed Logan’s way when they thought he wasn’t looking. He detected wariness in those glances, but something else as well—an excitement, an eagerness for something these men understood and he did not.
It was this secret knowledge that bothered Logan most. He had seen such looks before on the faces of other men like these, and it always signaled a fresh form of bloodletting. But he had committed himself; he had his staff to protect him, and his training as a Knight of the Word to reassure him. Whatever waited, it would find him ready.
They passed down through the hills, winding between the gentle slopes toward the buildings, leaving the freeway and Ghosts behind. No one talked. Logan thought once or twice to ask questions, and then decided against it. He was better off keeping his uncertainties to himself.
“Just ahead, now,” the man who had done all the speaking advised.
“You knew I was coming,” Logan said, changing his mind about staying quiet. “You were waiting for me.”
The speaker glanced at him. “We did and we were. We keep watch on the roads to see who passes. Those who suit our needs, we bring back. Most, we ignore. Not you, of course. We knew you for a Knight of the Word ten miles back. That staff. There’s no mistaking it.”
